


Handle It Together

by Westgate (Harkpad)



Category: Age of Ultron - Fandom, Avengers, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Barton Family, Daddyhawk, F/M, Family, Fluff, Sickfic, Vomiting, family hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4752440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Laura leaves town for a conference, it's the perfect time for a stomach virus to attack the Barton farm. It starts with Lila, but it travels fast. Clint can handle it, though. Mostly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handle It Together

**Author's Note:**

> Weeks ago, someone prompted this story. It sat on my computer because of RL things, and then it grew. I certainly didn't see it hitting 4K. Now I'm sick, too, and it was a good time to finally finish it. I hope whoever prompted it finds it and likes it! Sick!Fic and Daddyhawk in one place. Woot!

Clint has to hold his breath and the front of his shirt is covered in vomit, but It's the fact that the Corny, the purple, fluffy teddy bear with the tiny quiver on its back gets covered in digested pizza and applesauce that really sets Lila off. She sees the bear amidst the pile of her clothes that Clint had frantically stripped off of her and thrown on the bathroom floor and her lip quivers and tears start, and the hiccuping sobs follow quickly.

"Hey, hey, Lila," Clint says. "You're going to be okay. Let's get you cleaned up and into bed." He sets her gingerly in the bathtub and the tears get turned up a notch, but he does his best to be practical and ignore the way her tears make him want to go shoot something. Her cheeks are rosy from fever and her eyes are bleary, and she needs to be sleeping, so he ignores the tension in his own shoulders and runs warm water into the tub.

As he's stripping off his gross, disgusting, soggy, and stinky t-shirt, Cooper, in his blue and red baseball pajamas, pokes his head into the bathroom. "Dad, can you get me a snack?"

Clint stops as the shirt is halfway over his head to stare at his son. He considers lashing out, and then groans as he gets the shirt off and onto the pile of filthy clothes. He reaches over to turn the water off for Lila, whose tears seem to flow more freely now that she has more of an audience in her brother.

He glares at Cooper. "Your sister just threw up in her bed and then threw up again down my shirt. Get your own snack, okay?"

"Oh, okay," Cooper replies, and he cocks his head at the pile of clothes on the floor. "That's gross," he adds and then ducks out of the room.

Clint sighs and turns back to Lila as he runs the washcloth down her face and wipes her chin. "You're gonna be okay, kiddo. I'll give Corny a bath, too, and he'll be as good as new. He could probably stand to have a bath anyway. He'll be happy." He washes her chest and pours fresh water over her head to get the ends of her hair clean. Gross for sure.

"Dad!" Cooper calls from the kitchen. "Can I have the leftover spaghetti in here?"

"Cooper!" Clint calls back, "I'm covered in puke. I don't care what you have at the moment!"

After he's done, he drains the tub and refills the it with clean water. "Can you splash around in here for a few minutes while I change your sheets?" Lila's stopped crying, but her cheeks are still red and her eyes look like they might sink into her head.

She nods and says, with a shaky tiny voice, "I'm sorry, Dadddy."

He leans over and presses a kiss to her warm forehead. "Nothin' to apologize for, peanut. Daddy's got this. I'll get you feeling better soon."

He stands and wipes off his chest enough to feel a little less sticky, and is trying to tuck the fitted sheet onto Lila's bed when his phone rings. "Yeah?" he says absently as he grabs the top sheet from the pink, fluffy chair in the corner of Lila's room.

"You sound distracted," Laura says, and he can hear her frown through the phone.

Clint sighs and sits down on the edge of the bed. "Lila came down with something. She's thrown up twice since dinner, this last time on me as I tried to get her to the bathroom."

"Awww, poor girl."

"Yeah, she tagged Corny on the last round, too - lost her mind at that. I told her he'd be grateful for the bath, though." Laura laughs, and it's a sound that always pulls Clint up, so he smiles, too. "You doin' alright? How was the day of meetings?"

"Good. I got to sit next to Rachel as it turns out. Haven't seen her since the last conference, so that was nice."

"Good," Clint replies. "I'm jealous of the swanky hotel you're in at the moment. I bet they don't have a pile of puke-covered clothes in the bathroom."

"Oh, I'm sure at least one of the bathrooms has that. Just not mine. Not yet."

"Oh, man, I hope you're not gonna get whatever Lila has while you're there."

"Nope. Orlando palm trees combined with clear swimming pools and margaritas after long, boring sessions on architectural design are guaranteed to wipe out any flu bugs."

She sounds relaxed to Clint, and it warms him to hear that in her voice. Her voice sounds settled and content, but then he hears Lila from the bathroom.

"Daddy! Daddy! My tummy's doing it again!"

"Fuck," he mutters.

"Clint?"

"I gotta go, sweetheart. Enjoy a margarita for me, okay? I'll call when I get the kids settled. " He doesn't even wait to say goodbye, and he gets to the bathroom in time to see Lila hunch over and throw up again, this time through her sobs. He feels so helpless. All he can do is rub her back and murmur assurances that it will all be over soon (and it'd better be - now he has to clean the tub). When she's finished this time, he washes her face and sets her outside the tub so he can rinse it and transfer the "gross" stuff to the toilet so it can get flushed away. As he finishes that task, his phone rings again.

"What?" he answers this time. He's getting tired of this whole situation. He doesn't have to be friendly.

"Happy early birthday to you, asshole," Natasha replies.

He sighs and sits down on the edge of the tub. "Sorry. Lila's been puking in really inconvenient places for the last hour and Laura's out of town for a conference. Not my best moment."

"Do inconvenient places include on you?" Natasha asks with what Clint thinks is a little too much delight. She's got a certain bathroom humor to her that always surprised Clint.

"Maybe," he deflects. "I can handle it." He can, too. He just wishes he didn't have to.

"Do you know where Cooper is at the moment?" Nat challenges, and Clint would swear that he can hear her smiling.

"Eating a snack. I can handle it," he repeats.

"Did you give him anything that will be gross when he starts puking, too?" She asks.

He's doomed. Goddamn it. "Maybe," he answers. "Was there a point here, Nat? I gotta get Lila to bed."

"Your birthday's in two days and I'm leaving town for a mission. We'll have a drink when I get back."

He smiles. "My place or yours?"

"I'll need some sanity after this one, so yours," she answers. "I'll bring the vodka."

"And the tea for the hangover." It's an old routine between them. Feels good after his day.

"Something Russian and strong," she recites. "Catch you later, Hawkeye. Good luck with the Puke Fest."

"Nothing festive here, Nat. She's done it five times since dinner. She ought to be about done."

"Bye, Clint," she says, ignoring him.

"Stay safe, Nat," he sighs, and an hour later Lila has thrown up, albeit only bile at this point, two more times. Clint sits in the chair near her bed with his head in his hands as she finally melts into sleep.

"Dad?" Cooper says, standing sillouhetted in his sister's doorway. "Is Lila okay?"

Clint looks up and feels a wave of guilt wash through him. He hasn't even checked on Cooper tonight, has just left him for the last few hours. Ten isn't quite old enough for that. He holds out his arms and Cooper walks into them, leans his head on Clint's shoulder, and sighs.

"Yeah, bud," Clint says. "She's gonna be okay. Hopefully she's done with the throwing up, and now she'll sleep." He rubs Cooper's back gently. "How are you holding up? I've completely ignored you tonight. How's that feel?" Cooper just shrugs against Clint's chest. "Let's get you to bed, okay?"

Cooper hesitates, but then nods. "Okay."

Clint can hear his hesitation. "What did I miss?" He asks.

"You said that when mom was gone you'd let me stay up late and play video games with you."

Clint laughs. Ten is a good age. "I did, didn't I?"

Cooper nods.

"What time is it? Clint asks.

"9:30. Can we play Apocolypse II together?"

Clint frowns. "You're not allowed to play that one."

"If I play with you I am. Mom said so."

Clint watches - but he knows that Cooper doesn't lie to him, at least not yet. Much of Clint's life is built around detecting lies and he's proven to his kids that he's very good at it. They don't try very often anymore. Clint supposes that once high school rolls around they'll push him, but not now. "Okay," he says. "But only an hour or so, bud. I'll bet your sister doesn't sleep through the night tonight, and I want you in bed before that show starts."

Cooper sighs, but nods.

Clint grabs the old baby monitor that they have stored in the hall closet for situations like this and sets it up in Lila's room, gathers a soda for him and Cooper, and joins him on the couch.

They get fifteen minutes. Clint changes the sheets again as Lila sits curled in the rocking chair near her bed. Cooper leans in the doorway and says, "I'm just gonna go to bed and read, Dad."

Clint looks up and nods. "Sorry, kid. Maybe tomorrow night."

An hour later Lila is asleep again and Clint parks himself in her chair, waiting for the next round. Finally, after two more trips to the bathroom and one more load of laundry, she sleeps and Clint gets a fitful few hours in her chair. Cooper nudges him awake in the morning and whispers, "You should move back to your bed, Dad." Clint decides he's going to let Cooper play video games with him all night tonight if he wants to - he deserves it.

When Clint wakes in his bed after a few hours of napping, Lila is awake and bouncing on Clint's bed and grinning at him.

"I feel lots better, Daddy!" she says, and he reaches out for her as she collapses onto his chest. He runs his hands through her tangled black hair and feels her forehead. She's still warm, but he knows she's feeling better, and he blows out a breath of relief.

"Let's get you some toast and water, sweetheart," he says, and rolls up to sit with her on his lap.

Her eyes are brighter and her face dips into a comical frown. "Aww, I wanted pancakes. You said you'd make pancakes today."

He stands up and pulls her legs around his waist. "That was before you spend most of the night throwing up, goofball. We gotta test that tummy of yours."

He didn't know that before he had kids. The first time Cooper caught a flu bug, Clint gave him scrambled eggs and grape juice as soon as he asked for something to eat afterward. Clint had to throw away a pillow after that incident. Laura had to explain the plain toast or bland applesauce approach to him. He'd shrugged and told her the last time he threw up was because of a concussion, not from the flu. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had the flu.

He and the kids spend the day playing Pixar Bingo and eating bland food like grilled cheese sandwiches and pasta with no sauce - Lila insists that if she can't eat anything fun, then they can't either. Her fever recedes, though, and by the time bedtime rolls around she's as good as new.

He loves getting to do bedtime with her. She always picks a favorite picture book, and she's the kindest kid he knows. She always picks one he likes (Room On The Broom is his favorite), and tonight's no different. He's halfway through a dragon poem when Cooper calls from his bedroom.

"Daaaad," and Clint hears him running for the bathroom.

Clint drops his chin to his chest and mutters, "You've got to be kidding me."

Laura calls an hour later, and Clint picks up with, "Will you please have a margarita for me?"

"What's wrong? Did Lila get -- uh oh. Cooper?" she asks, like if she said it too loudly something might explode.

"Yes, Cooper," Clint says. He's sitting on the edge of the bathtub - at least at age ten, Cooper knows how to get to the toilet in time each time. "Twice since Lila's bedtime. He's in between bouts if you want to talk to him."

He watches as Cooper sits cross-legged on the blue tile of their bathroom floor and leans his head against the wall as he talks to his mom. His voice is flat and his face is pale, his dark hair contrasting hard with his skin. Whatever Laura says gets him to chuckle, and Clint smiles as Cooper hands the phone back and leans on his arms.

"The palm trees are really pretty here," she says when he takes the phone back from Cooper. She pauses. "I'm sorry you're dealing with this alone."

He can't help the laugh that escapes. "Are you serious?" he asks. He feels a flash of anger, even, at the ridiculous statement. "How many flu bugs have you dealt with alone? How many teacher conferences, field trip days, meltdown d-" he feels like he's ranting, and she cuts him off abruptly with a steely tone.

"I'm still sorry you have to deal with it. You're sorry I have to deal with it when you're gone, too."

"Yeah, but I'm al-" he starts, and he stands and moves to the hallway.

"Not always. Not too much. Just a lot. There's a difference, Clint." Her voice is rich, clear and strong, but never loud, never accusing. When he first met her, and she talked to him through the dark of the night, he thought her voice sounded like absolution. Tonight's no different.

"Yeah, okay," he answers, and sighs. "Lila's sleeping, though, so that's good. I figure if Coop follows her pattern, we've got another few hours left of this.

"Oh, that stinks," she says.

"I feel better talking to you, though. You'll be home tomorrow night late, right?" He asks. He tries not to sound too needy, but he is, and he doesn't think he'll ever really understand how she does all of this by herself when he's on the handful of weeks-long ops he goes on each year. She doesn't even get to prepare for it, usually - Clint knew about her conference months ago, and he was still overwhelmed here.

"Unless the car's been stolen from the train station, it'll be midnight at the earliest before I can get there."

"If someone steals that car they'll be very sorry when I find them," Clint says, and he means it, too. He would kick anyone's ass right now if they keep Laura from getting home.

"I'll be home tomorrow late," she says gently.

"Okay," he says. "We'll be fine."

"I know," she says, and there's a hitch there.

"Have you had fun?" he asks, and when she hesitates, he says, "I'm sorry if you've been worrying about us instead of having fun."

"No," she replies, "It's been fun, but -"

Clint cuts her off. "Good. That's good. You should have fun."

She's quiet for a moment and Clint can practically see sitting on her hotel bed with her dress shoes off and her knees pulled up to her chest, tugging on a strand of her hair absently, twirling it around her index finger as she bites her lip in thought. He smiles at the image.

"Go enjoy your last night with these folks you never see," he says. "Give me a call when you get to the airport tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," she says, and then, "I'll see you when I see you."

"Even if I see you first?" he recites, playing his part of an old game.

"Even then," she answers, and after a pause she adds, "Love you."

"Love you, too," he says, and hangs up, because they used to play the game of who's going to hang up first, but that was years ago and when they were prone to letting their insecurities have too much power. Now he hangs up and closes his eyes for a second before Cooper calls from the bathroom, "Dad? Can you come here?"

He heads back in and his son is pale and shaking at the toilet, so he kneels back down and rubs Cooper's back gently as he grips the porcelain tight.

"I hate this," Cooper mumbles as Clint wipes his face with a wet washcloth and then ushers him out into the hall. "Why are we going back to bed, Dad? I'm just gonna be back here throwing up soon."

Clint pushes him into his bed and pulls the cover back up around his shoulders. "Because you might have an hour before you do it again and you need the rest, kiddo. Whatever you can get."

Cooper tries to smile up at Clint and says, "And you're tired of sitting in the bathroom, huh?"

Clint chuckles. "Yep. I sure as heck am. Get some sleep."

The pattern does repeat, and Cooper's back in the bathroom an hour later, and two hours after that, and by then it's four in the morning and Clint feels like he might be hallucinating the whole thing he's so damned tired. He tucks Cooper back in bed and drags himself back to the bathroom to clean it again.

"Going to use a whole can of this fucking stuff before we're done," he mutters as he sprays bathroom cleaner on the toilet and wipes it down. He washes his hands for an extra minute when he's finished, and moves to the kitchen to get himself something to eat and take a minute to enjoy the quiet. He sits at the big wooden kitchen table and eats while he scans his work email and answers a few. 

When he's finished he looks at his watch and lets a little spark of hope flare. He finishes his sandwich and washes his face and finally crawls into bed around five with a silent wish that Cooper's finished with the throwing up phase of all this crap. He gets that wish, but he also gets Lila bouncing on his bed at eight with a bright, "Mommy's coming home today! Let's make a party, Daddy!"

"I've done life-threatening ops on less sleep," he mutters to himself as he rolls out of bed and stumbles to the kitchen to make coffee. Lila is six and demands plans for parties, especially since Laura showed her what a to-do list was and how it kept you from forgetting what to do. Lila sits herself down at the kitchen table with a piece of paper and asks, "How do you spell 'streamers'?" Clint decides to skip the coffee cup stage and just takes a quick drink from the carafe since Laura isn't around to frown and he's definitely going to need the whole pot the way Lila is going here.

They list out streamers, balloons, a "big giant sign with great big letters," and cupcakes arranged to spell Welcome Home Mommy, and Lila also adds 'a stuffed animal welcome party,' but Clint tells her she's gonna have to handle that part herself (because what is that?) and goes to check on Cooper. He's sleeping soundly and has some color back in his cheeks, so Clint relaxes a bit and tells Lila to work on the stuffed animal party while he showers.

By the time Cooper wakes up a few hours later, Clint's managed to make Lila a batch of pancakes for breakfast, helped her hang a tangled web of yellow, purple, green, and pink streamers that makes the living room and kitchen look like a drunk elf decorated the place, and he's outlined the words for the sign on a roll of white paper so that Lila can spend the rest of the morning and early afternoon coloring it in and adding flowers and rainbows to the edges. She's working on the first M when Cooper wanders into the kitchen.

"We have all this stuff just laying around?" he asks around a yawn.

Clint goes to him and pulls him into a good-morning hug. "Birthday party leftovers. Mom wisely doesn't throw this stuff away," he says, and Cooper lingers in Clint's arms a moment longer than usual before shuffling over to the table. "Toast and applesauce, coming right up!" Clint says with a fake brightness in his voice. It gets him a groan and Cooper lays his head down on the table.

The day proceeds around resting and decorating and cleaning icing out of every nook and cranny of the kitchen, and when it's finally bedtime, Lila decides to throw a fit about having to go to bed."I wanna stay up to see Mommy!" she wails, and Clint realizes then that a headache has definitely decided to show up, so he rubs his temples.

"We've been over this, munchkin," he says, trying to be gentle. "She's not coming in for another few hours and you and Coop spent the last two days throwing up. You both need rest and she'll be waiting to see you first thing in the morning."

"But the party!" Lila says with a dark frown. "We made a party!"

"And she's gonna love it," Clint says, and he pulls Lila to her bedroom with Cooper trailing behind. Clint ignores the way the room seems to heat up around his t-shirt collar. "Plus, you'll get to do something you never get to do as a special treat for going to bed now."

Lila eyes him warily. "What special treat?" she asks.

Cooper has it figured out, so he says from the doorway, "Cupcakes for breakfast!"

And that's, thankfully, enough to get both kids to go to bed without protest, which is good because Clint is not pleased with the way his own stomach has started to feel. He texts Natasha a frowny face and "You called it, dammit," and hits send even though he knows she won't get it until her op is over.

He makes it about an hour after the kids are asleep before he has to camp out in the bathroom for himself. He sits there and shivers as that hot and cold feeling of a stomach virus makes his stomach roll with nausea before he finally starts round one of what he figures he might as well call the Puke Fest. An hour later he pulls his sweat-soaked t-shirt off and throws it in the tub as he shifts on the floor next to the toilet.

"Awwww, Clint," he hears as he lays with his head on the toilet and his eyes shut against the pain in his stomach. And then Laura's next to him and rubbing circles on his back and running her hand through his sweaty hair. After another round of his stomach turning inside out, he wipes his face with the cool washcloth she hands him and finally opens bleary eyes to see her sitting next to him. She's already changed into sweatpants and one of his old Army t-shirts that hangs loose on her shoulders, and her hair is pulled back and her eyes are filled with affection and worry.

"Welcome home," he mutters, and she hands him a cup of water to rinse his mouth with.

"I'm so glad to be home," she replies drily, and takes the cup back when he's done.

He leans his head back on the wall and closes his eyes. "How was your trip?"

"It was a trip," she answers. "Can I get you anything?"

He pats the toilet like an old friend. "Got everything I need right here, thanks." He hears her chuckle and stand and go out to the hallway, and he figures she's checking on the kids again. She comes back with a clean t-shirt for him and another wet washcloth. She sits with him through one more round, and then he leans into her as they shift from the bathroom to their bedroom and she climbs in next to him and brushes her hand through his hair and down his cheek.

"God, that feels good," he murmurs, and she keeps it up, her smooth hand against his rough and hot cheek like a balm. After he lays there long enough to hope that he's done in the bathroom, he opens one eye and says, "There's a party for you downstairs."

She chuckles and it's medicine to Clint's ears. "I know. The stuffed animal welcome team was my first clue. The streamers and sign were helpful, too." She paused and Clint opened both eyes to see her. "I'm surprised the kids aren't up now," she says.

Clint rolls a little closer to her so he can smell what's left of her perfume and feel the heat from her body again. He hates their bed when she's not in it. "They've been sick," he says with a shrug, and he feels her nod. "There's something you should know, though," he adds.

He supposes she knows his voice after so many years the same way he knows hers, so she says, "Clint?" suspiciously.

He's really tired and starts to fall asleep in her arms, but she pinches him lightly to get him to open his eyes again. "Huh?"

"You said there's something I should know."

"Oh," he answers, and burrows a little more into her arms. She shuffles and makes them both comfortable. "I might've promised them cupcakes for breakfast," he mumbles into her shirt.

And maybe she says something in reply, but he's too comfortable, too tired, too glad that she's back here in their bed, and he's too content to pass out in her arms to hear whatever she says about the cupcakes. Whatever it was, he still wakes the next day to find three cupcakes missing from the platter, and Laura and the kids curled up on the couch watching The Incredibles, Laura's favorite Pixar movie.

He fixes himself a Sprite and a piece of toast, and settles onto the couch next to Laura. He presses a quick kiss to her cheek and she turns to him with the little half-smile that sends contentment rushing through his chest. "Welcome home, Mommy," he says with his own grin, and Cooper and Lila echo it with a cheer, and they all lay on the couch piled together for most of the day, except when they're up to get more cupcakes, or toast and applesauce for Clint.


End file.
